RH-League
by Alice Kingsly
Summary: Sherlock get's an unpleasant surprise from Mrs. Hudson: she's trying to find new neighbours for him. At the same time Holmes and Watson continue to solve crimes together. New cases. More deduction. Mrs. Hudson's guests. Can Sherlock bear all that?


**RH-League**

**Chapter 1**

**A New case**

John went upstairs carrying newspapers.

Sherlock was impatient.

'Nothing?'

'No'.

Sherlock gave a deep sigh as an answer and looked away. He continued to be bored because John hadn't brought him bad news. Good news can't turn into crimes.

'This morning is as usual as earlier'.

'Nothing on the website?' asked John, but Sherlock decided to leave it with no reply.

There were no new cases in a few days. It made Sherlock mad which meant Watson wouldn't find peace during the day. It is better when Sherlock is busy.

Another deep sigh was heard.

'Don't be sad. Wait for a bit more'.

After saying this Dr. John Watson realized how stupid his advice was. He can't wait.

'Nothing happens around. Except…'

Something brought Sherlock out of reverie. John rolled up his eyes. He knew this glance of him. It meant much more than you could ever imagine. A Mix of triumph and inspiration. The Feeling of superiority and knowledge of all secrets of the universe. Could he ever stop doing this?!

'What did I miss again, Sherlock?' asked John, taking his place in a chair opposite Holmes.

It looked like he had found something special. Maybe, it's even better. When Sherlock found a new case, he became happy and lived a normal life. Normal for him, of course.

'Mrs Hudson', said Sherlock in a mysterious tone.

'Mrs Hudson – what?' replied John. 'I've just seen her, and…'

He couldn't finish his speech because of the doorbell downstairs.

'I'm coming', their landlady cried out. Former landlady for John. Now he's almost ready to admit he's missing her.

'It's not a client', said John, listening.

'Of course, not', answered Sherlock. 'She had known somebody would come. She expected him in the corridor. I heard that she was walking here and there for some time. She was just waiting'.

'Some relatives, maybe', John started to share his own versions. 'Or friends. I don't know. Anyway, it's not our concern, Sherlock'.

'That's weird. I can't remember any kind of her relatives. Well, no one except her husband. But it was an old case'.

John smiled.

'The case of Mrs Hudson relatives? I like it. But, honest, I'd like to do the same thing as she did'.

'What do you mean?' Sherlock seemed to look surprised.

'The best way is not to introduce people you care to you, Sherlock. You're rude and you frighten them all. And, by the way, if we are speaking about it, how did you organize her husband's execution? You've never told me'.

But Sherlock was busy. He showed Watson to stay silent and listen.

'Come, please. Here. Come with me'.

'Neighbours!' cried out Sherlock. He was in despair and, maybe, afraid of it.

'That's weird. She's never told me she was searching for someone', said John. He was sure that not to tell Sherlock about it was a good idea. Very good. But she could tell him. Maybe, they could avoid this tragedy now.

Sherlock got up from his chair and rushed to the window. He opened it with a quick shift and started to look around.

'Sherlock, what are you doing?'

'Trying to understand, how much I can hear from here… What the hell, why is it so loud in the street?!'

Disappointed, he closed the window.

'Really, why is it so?'

'It's a tragedy, John!' Sherlock was in despair.

'Listen, I know, it's hard for you. You don't like people, and…'

'I've never said I don't like them, John! I've said I don't like their stupidity. To say so would be too much a big compliment about them. And also they're so fretful!' said Sherlock, stamping his feet like a child. 'Look who's talking!'

This situation became funny. Watson opened one of the newspapers he had brought.

'Well, this place is rather nice', said somebody from Mrs Hudson's guests downstairs.

Sherlock continued to listen. Something fell on the floor, but the sound was faint. Then they heard Mrs Hudson's voice, but they still couldn't recognize her words.

'Three persons. A young couple with a small child. I've determined it by their steps. The first one comes a bit faster than others. A woman, I assume. A man, her husband goes beside her. His steps are heavier - he carries the baby in his arms. Probably, the child is less or about one year old…'

Sherlock started to walk up and down.

'Sherlock…'

'Hmm, I suppose, the need made them come here. No one wants to live in such an uncomfortable room for no reason. But I don't think that they're so desperate – I know Mrs Hudson, and she's a very wise angel. May be, they've found their own house, but the renovation is not finished yet. Of course, they can't move in because of the little child. This process is suspended…'

'Sherlock', Watson tried to continue, but Holmes didn't listen.

'That's right. The spent all money on buying and furnishing the house. But they have no place to live. Probably, their renting is over. Of course it is – they've intended to move into their house by this time. But they are in trouble, and no one wants to help them. Why? There should be some reason… Oh! A forbidden love. That's nice. Husband is elder that wife. Her voice is too young, while his steps show us some health problems. Age problems. It created a conflict between them and their closest relatives, who didn't want to welcome a new member of the family. Even the birth of the child couldn't melt the ice…'

'Stop it'.

'The woman is completely absorbed by her role of a mother. She's taking care of the child, while her husband spends time working. He works somewhere not too far away from the tube. That's why they want this room. The tube is the main advantage of our district'.

'They had no time to search the room carefully, but they have already agreed to all landlady's conditions despite the fact that Mrs Hudson could increase the rent. I hear these notes in her voice: she's almost happy. It's a lunch time, so he's an office worker and…'

'Come on, you don't look like an ideal neighbour either', John finally managed to interrupt his friend. 'But you used to live here', Sherlock returned to him.

'Yes, and one day Mycroft will give me a medal for it', John tried to joke. 'By the way, almost no one can bear your play on the violin in any time of the day and night!'

'Right!' Sherlock smiled. He was full of joy and happiness. 'Violin! John, you are brilliant!'

He turned back and took the violin from the floor.

'Jesus, please', bagged John. 'You are not going to... Oh'.

'Let's play?'

Holmes started to play one of his favourite melodies.

'What is that?'

It seemed that they heard it too. Sherlock was in triumph.

'I'm sure they'll change their mind, John. They shouldn't be so …'

The door in the room opened. A few pairs of eyes stared at them. It was Mrs Hudson and her probable clients: a young couple with a little daughter about 10 months old. She dropped a toy. It seemed that it was not the first time: her mum took another one if they lost it.

This couple wasn't balanced. The husband was elder than his wife for more than 10 years. She looked too young and too fresh near him. Their daughter was in her father's arms. She looked happy, just like her mother, while her dad was quite sad. Probably, Mrs Hudson really exceeded the rent.

All was just as Sherlock had told.

'These are Sherlock and John. They're living here', Mrs Hudson introduced them. She forgot that John didn't live here anymore.

'Oh', just answered the man. He wore standard lounge suit. Of course.

Watson gave a deep breath. They would think something wrong again.

'Good afternoon. Are you here to see the room? 221 C, I presume?'

Sherlock looked… fine. His voice was soft and kind. You could even hear care in it. Care?'

John was at a loss.

'Yes. We need a room for some time. We are moving in 2 months. We like the room', the young mother was honest with them.

'A very good choice. Happy for you. Especially, remembering that a few years ago one of the most dangerous criminals in the world broke into that room and left a twenty year old clue. It's such a good choice, isn't it?'

John wasn't surprised when he heard the noise of the closing door a few minutes later.

'Mrs Hudson will be hurt. Again', said John accusing.

'Come on', Sherlock wasn't going to apologize. 'She wouldn't bear this child and the mess. She would start to ask me to help them move'.

'That's right', John laughed. Oh… a new message? Who is this?'

'Lestrade', answered Sherlock, reading it. 'He found a new case for us. Come on'. 'Actually, I came here just to visit you, and…'

'Well, you can come with me or just stay here and explain Mrs Hudson why she'll never find a neighbour for me'.

'You can always find the right words', said John, getting up from his chair.

Actually, somewhere deep inside he was happy to take part in solving a new crime. He could compare nothing with it.

'A nice place', noticed John, looking around.

They found themselves in an old building in a one of the most prestigious districts of the city. Two centuries ago it was a private house and then was turned into a luxury hotel. Nowadays it became one of the most popular places for the official events.

'It's a murder', concluded Sherlock when they went along the corridor to meet Lestrade.

'Good that you came here immediately. I think it's a murder. A dead man was a famous person in his sphere, so I'm trying to hold the press'.

Sherlock looked strange. His face changed, but in a moment came back to normal. Distant and mysterious. 'I think you'll like it', added Lestrade. 'Here'.

They crossed two big halls and turned left. There was the body of a man in dark blue suite near the stairs. His face was buried in a carpet.

'The man, age 41, Greek by the origin'.

'Hardly difficult deduction', noticed Sherlock examining the victim's body. He couldn't see his face, but his skin, hair and his constitution showed that the man came somewhere from the Mediterranean.

Lestrade was trying to not pay attention to it.

'His last name is Melas. There was a big banquet in the honour of one of the foreign guests yesterday. The victim was an interpreter at that event. They say he knew five languages. He was a nice guy.'

'How was he killed? Thrown down the stairs?' asked John.

'It seems so'. Few witnesses saw him falling down the stairs. There was nobody near him. He was alone. Died immediately'.

A deep wound on his head and blood around the dead man could make everybody believe in it.

'You know I don't take this', Sherlock wasn't ready to waste his time.

'I have not finished yet', Lestrade looked satisfied. He liked the moments when he knew more than Sherlock. But who didn't?

'Before the fall the victim looked weird. He stumbled at every step.'

'It's not surprising', noticed John, staring at the glass lying not far away from the body. 'The party was nice. He had drunk too much.'

'He wasn't drunk. Yesterday evening he hardly tasted his wine.'

Sherlock raised his brows. Lestrade asked to turn the body.

The mouth of the dead man was full of foam.

'Was he poisoned?' concluded John without understanding what's going on.

'Yes. We don't know yet what exactly killed him, but, obviously, someone poisoned the interpreter at the banquet'.

'Who will poison the man and then throw him down the stairs?' asked John. He stood near the body and tried to find something unusual.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He stood near John and continued to check the interpreter's body.


End file.
